


Diplomacy Is a Process

by ncfan



Series: Game Night in Cell Block A [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Canon Speculation, Gen, Missing Scene, POV Female Character, Spoilers, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9594116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: Well, this time had gone better than last time. At least this time he actuallytalkedto her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Though details in the story will likely make it clear, just to be _very_ clear, this takes place during the time skip between Seasons 2 and 3.

The interior of the corvette was refreshingly cool after hot, dry, dusty Atollon outside, though by the time Sabine and Chopper had made their way down to Cell Block A, Sabine thought the air was starting to get a bit stale. Not a lot of people went down here, and it told in the cold, silent air. Oh, well. At least down here, Chopper didn’t complain about how the dusty winds were ruining his paint job; he’d been griping about that for over a month. (Though to be fair, Sabine had had to touch up the paint on her armor rather more often than usual since settling here.)

She had warned Hera and Kanan about what she was planning on doing, before the first time. With everything else that was going on, Sabine was pretty sure that them finding out after the fact, without her even apprising them of her plan, wouldn’t have ended well. Chopper agreed to help if only because he was “sick of watching Hera mope.” For all his moaning, Sabine was pretty sure Chopper did genuinely want Hera to feel better. It was just that that impulse was deeply buried. _Very_ deeply buried, a mile or so up from where the planet’s crust met the mantle.

Sabine had gone in expecting that she’d have to fight Hera and Kanan both for permission. She’d avoided Rau like the plague ever since she and Kanan had brought him back from Concord Dawn—not that that was difficult, considering the only time Rau ever saw daylight was to be transferred from one ship’s brig to another. On top of that, Sabine wasn’t entirely certain Kanan believed she wouldn’t try to kill Rau, or at least wound him a bit, if the two of them had to be stuck in the same confined space for any length of time. For the record, no, she wouldn’t; Hera had been back on her feet for a long time, and Sabine’s anger had cooled from a fire to a few lukewarm embers.

But Sabine’s expectations had betrayed her. Far from being recalcitrant to what she was proposing, Hera and Kanan were surprised, but pleased. _“That’s… I’m glad, Sabine_ ,” Hera had told her, with a smile so infectious that Sabine forgot her own mixed feelings and smiled back.

Not to say that they didn’t have some ‘advice.’

_“Just please remember to be civil. Recruitment tends to work better that way.”_

_“I can be civil!”_

_Kanan laughed. There were still bacta patches hooked to the too-white bandage over his eyes, and a combination of pain and painkillers made his voice a touch weaker than it should have been, as he remarked, “Yeah, you can be civil. What we’d like is for you to_ be _civil. If you’re successful at all, it probably won’t be immediately, so remember to be patient.”_

_Hera leaned over and rested her hand lightly on Kanan’s shoulder. “Diplomacy is a process, Sabine. Remember that, as well.”_

The first time, however, it wasn’t a matter of Sabine being civil or uncivil; she never got a chance to be either. The first time, Rau didn’t just not take her up on a game of cubikahd, though he must have been bored to tears in that empty cell. He did not say one word to her, instead fixing her in a long, hard stare that Sabine could only hold for so long before she had to look away. Not exactly a rousing success.

Hopefully, this time around, he would at least _talk_ to her.

Sabine nodded to the guards, who nodded silently back and deactivated the force field just long enough to let her and Chopper through. Rau sat straight and stiff on the bench opposite from Sabine’s—she didn’t know if he’d had advance warning of her coming, or if he’d just heard her and Chopper coming down the hall. Either way, he did not seem surprised to see them. A little annoyed, but that was about normal.

“Hello,” Sabine said quietly, feeling awkward in spite of herself. She had to fight the urge to fidget.

She got no response, and after a couple of minutes of silence, began to wonder if this really was just going to be a repeat performance of last time. _I wonder if he treats the people who bring his food this way. Maybe I’d have more luck if I started serving in the mess hall._ But just as Sabine was starting to think she was going to have to call this one off too, Rau said, sounding only a little like a man who had barely spoken in months, “Tell your droid to set up the game board.”

Well, this was already getting off to a better start than last time, not that that would be hard. _“I’m standing right here,”_ Chopper grumbled (or, at least, that was a close approximation of what he said; what he _actually_ said didn’t really bear repeating), but he brought the board up anyways.

There was a lot of variation to favored hologames among Mandalorians, with Mandalorians from different worlds or clans favoring different games. Cubikahd was the only game Sabine could think of that was universally enjoyed, and it was the one game she could think of that she and Rau were both bound to know how to play. It had been a very long time since Sabine had last played cubikahd.  Most of her family didn’t have much time for it, when she was growing up; with the kind of lives they led, leisure time was difficult to come by. She’d mostly played against one of her second cousins, who was a few years older than her, and who in retrospect she suspected had been going easy on her. Judging by how quickly she lost the first game, yeah, her cousin had definitely been going easy on her.

The look on Rau’s face as Chopper reset the board was an odd mixture of sardonic amusement and something that looked almost like disappointment. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to savor an admittedly petty victory over one of his captors, or be disappointed that the only other person around who actually knew how to play this game happened to be a lousy player.

When Rau made that face, he reminded Sabine irresistibly of a couple of her older uncles (Or, rather, parents’ cousins whom she called ‘uncle’ in deference to the fact that they were much, much older than her). He reminded her of some of her older relatives in general, the ones who could remember a time before the civil wars long before Sabine was born, and hadn’t become directly involved with Death Watch afterwards. Less aggressive than those who had joined Death Watch, but still markedly watchful of anyone who might logically be a threat to them. She hadn’t wanted to see it before, but she could now. And there wouldn’t be any telling Rau that; he’d probably be even more offended than her uncles if she said so. Of course, they’d probably all express their offense in exactly the same way, and prove Sabine’s case for her, but this would probably trigger another breakdown in diplomacy. Possibly one involving blunt instruments. She kept her mouth shut.

It did make her feel just a little lonely to see, though.

“I heard about Jarrus,” Rau told her suddenly, during a lull in the second game. His voice was decidedly, deliberately neutral, and he eyed her sharply as he spoke.

Herself, Sabine had to fight to keep from scowling. _Of course. He probably heard the guards talking._ Probably the only reason Rau had been any more responsive today than he had the last time Sabine had showed up was because he was trying to worm information out of her.

_Figures. My version of diplomacy’s digging up an old hologame and hoping the guy I’m playing against will actually want to talk with me after long enough. Figures he’d just take this as an excuse to pump me for information._

He wanted to worm information out of her? Sabine narrowed her eyes. Well, fine. Two could play at that game.

“What have you heard?” Sabine asked carefully. The game was now forgotten, her attention fixed on the other player, though she could still feel Chopper looking at her.

“That he bit off more than he could chew during a mission.” Rau broke eye contact with her and stared off to his right, at the wall of the cell opposite from the doorway. He frowned deeply. “Seems a shame.”

Sabine bristled, and said hotly, all with Hera’s _‘Please be civil’_ ringing in her ears, “He can still fight!”

“Yes, I imagine being a Jedi helps with that,” Rau shot back, his voice practically dripping sarcasm. “It _still_ seems a shame. There’s little use in getting yourself maimed if it doesn’t even serve to achieve your mission objective.”

“He’s still alive.”

“He is, indeed. Dying to achieve your mission, unwavering, is not an unworthy act. Not that I would expect _you_ to appreciate that.”

His tone was positively withering, and somehow, Sabine didn’t think he was talking about her involvement with the Rebellion. She tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

There came no answer, except a look that gave Sabine the impression that Rau thought she ought to have known exactly what he meant. As it stood, Sabine didn’t, and she didn’t particularly want to have to press further to figure it out. _I wonder if the Empire alerts the Protectors when someone defects from the Imperial Academy on Mandalore. It would make sense to put them on alert. Or it might be house politics; he does think my house is an even bigger embarrassment to our people than I am, after all._ And with that thought, the probable answer slotted into place. Death Watch. He _was_ talking about Death Watch.

“Rau…” Sabine frowned at him, staring intently into his face. “…How old do you think I am, exactly?”

Again, Sabine got no answer, and this time, she shook her head and bit back a sigh. “I was born two years before the Siege was lifted, and the Empire took control of Mandalorian space,” she explained, willing herself to be patient, to keep her voice level and impersonal. “By the time I was old enough to actually remember anything, Death Watch had already gone to ground. For a while.” Rau blinked, his eyes widening slightly, only just enough to be noticeable. So she had his attention. Good. “I don’t remember when Satine Kryze ruled. I don’t remember Pre Vizsla, or Maul. The only rule I’ve known anywhere in Mandalorian space is the rule of the Empire.” She forced herself to meet his gaze, forced herself to say, “The Empire wants us to treat them the same way we’d treat any clan chieftain who prevailed over us in war, but I think we _both_ know that that isn’t the same thing.”

_I figured that one out the hard way. Someday, you might, too._

Once more, Rau seemed to have nothing he particularly wished to say. Instead, he looked her over closely, as if trying to pick her brain apart with his eyes. He leaned back against the cold metal wall of the cell, the shadows falling over his face like a veil. Sabine said nothing, clamping her mouth shut so fast that her teeth made an audible click against each other.

There was no way he’d seriously thought she was old enough to have actually fought with Death Watch. It didn’t matter how old Rau _thought_ Sabine was; she knew she didn’t look old enough to have been of fighting age during the Clone Wars, let alone beforehand. But it did seem he’d thought her old enough to at least have clear memories of that time period, of what Death Watch had done before the Empire came and they all, every warring faction, had gone deep into hiding. Well, more fool him.

Half-buried memories of history lessons surfaced from the back of Sabine’s mind as silence fell thick and fraught in the cell. After the civil wars ended (if they ever really _had_ ended; Sabine could remember a few times when she was very young when it seemed like they had never stopped) and the Duchess Satine had cemented her control on the throne, she made it clear to the warriors of Mandalore that they were to lay down their arms and submit to her authority, or be exiled from Mandalore. Sabine’s people had refused to do either, and were restricted to Concordia. They weren’t the only ones.

The Protectors had recognized Satine’s victory, and thus her rule, as legitimate. Not exactly surprising; their allegiance was to the throne directly, rather to any particular clan or house. However, they had refused to lay down their arms, and had gone into a voluntary exile in the Concord Dawn system. From what Sabine had heard, the Duchess had still occasionally called upon the Protectors to track down especially dangerous fugitives, and she allowed them to recruit from the warrior clans (she must have; there was no way Rau was old enough to have already been with the Protectors by the time the wars had ended), but the détente was at best an uneasy one. Joining the Protectors meant exiling yourself from the Mandalore system, and the rise of the Empire had not changed that. The last thing the Empire wanted was the Protectors free to operate on Mandalore, or any of the other Mandalorian worlds; they’d gone so far as to put a moratorium on recruitment a few years before Sabine joined the Academy.

Sabine didn’t know when, exactly, Rau had joined the Protectors. It would have had to have been before the Clone Wars, for him to have been a flight instructor on Kamino, but no matter the exact figure, it would have been a very long time ago. The Mandalore Sabine Wren knew bore little resemblance to the Mandalore Fenn Rau knew. The Mandalore Fenn Rau knew probably had much more in common with the stories Sabine’s family had told her than to what she had known growing up. She knew that. She’d known that. He might know that now, too.

“Wren,” Rau said at length, sharply, but he couldn’t mask the sudden tiredness in his voice, and Sabine stared at him, surprised to hear it. He didn’t look directly at her. Instead, he focused his attention on the holographic game board in front of them, waving his hand so the image crackled and winked around it. “Either keep playing, or get out.”

It would have been kind of nice to be able to just leave, to get away from someone who played nice with the Empire just to keep their wrath from falling on him, and yet judged her choices and found them wanting. It would have been nice to get away from someone who looked at her with such scorn. But Sabine thought of Kanan, who would never fully recover from what had happened to him on Malachor, who now found himself having to adjust to blindness. She thought of Hera, whose face was perpetually strained with grief and worry, who hadn’t smiled wholeheartedly in over a month, and who Sabine occasionally caught rubbing at bloodshot eyes. She thought of Chopper, who would have loved for everyone to believe he didn’t care, and yet still followed her here without a single complaint. She thought of Ezra, who had grown distant and unsmiling, Zeb, who barely seemed to know what to do now, Rex, whom she caught staring off into the arid wilderness with a look in his eyes as though he was galaxies away.

She thought of the family of her blood, who had, long ago, made the same choice as Rau. Maybe for the same reasons, or maybe not. Sabine knew his reasons, but she had never been sure of theirs, had never been able to guess whether it would have been easier or not, had she known. She hadn’t been able to make them change their minds, but maybe, just maybe…

The Rebellion needed all the allies it could get.

 _Diplomacy is a process_ , Sabine told herself, and kept playing.


End file.
